


Enlightenment Enough

by missusmystery



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Food Porn, and also real porn, brooding ben, qts, rey is a personal chef
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missusmystery/pseuds/missusmystery
Summary: Rey, fresh out of culinary school, gets her dream job - working for humanitarian Leia Organa-Solo and her family as a personal chef. It's going marvelously until their disagreeable son, Ben, moves back in with them during his mysterious "forced leave" from his job in Denver. The worst part isn't his brooding, snobbish attitude towards her, or the way she can't stop thinking about his hair or his obnoxious height. No, the worst part is - he's a vegan.
Relationships: Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been a reylo for so long and this is my first fic for this fandom! I hope you enjoy my self indulgent cooking AU with Emma (2020) inspired yearning and twitter inspired Pinterest girl Rey by @buriedbloom (check her out she is fantastic!). Lots of clothes porn, food porn, and real porn... I have so much time so this should be updated pretty regularly. Thanks for popping in!!!

It’s 5:30 a.m. and Rey can honestly say she will never get used to waking up this early.

Back in school, her first classes didn’t begin until at _least_ 9:30, and even then, that was pushing it. The best part of waking up, to her, was a slow morning—stretching out in bed, sunlight illuminating her white cotton sheets, drinking coffee she stole with creamer she also stole from her lovely, generous roommate, Rose, and not doing much of anything until midday.

The real world, however, didn’t permit that. Sadly, a paying job doing something she loved had the unfortunate side effect of forcing Rey into an adult-tier schedule. When her alarm rang that morning, the outdated iPhone ringer that jarred Rey into some semblance of life every day, the sun still hadn’t risen. It would be another hour, maybe, before the sun would start to peek over the towering buildings around her.

Rey stretched, trying to shake off her bleariness with an exaggerated stretch, complete with an open-mouthed yawn. Would it not have been for her absolute adoration of her job and her employers, Rey would have thought nothing could make her get up this early _every morning_ , much less take a half hour train ride from the outskirts of the upper west side to Greenwich village. And, she guessed the beautiful, plant-filled, white-curtained townhome didn’t hurt, either. If only Leia started her mornings 30 minutes later, Rey’s nights might not have had to almost exclusively come to a close at 10 p.m.

Now, there she was, inelegantly shrugging on a denim jumpsuit she hoped was clean and a mustard yellow cardigan that smelled... _fine,_ and pulled her hair into a bun with a ponytail that she might have also stolen from Rose. Rey sighed—another thing to add to the growing list of items she owed her roommate. So far, the list included at least two bottles of wine that cost a little too much, last week’s groceries, and the humidifier they'd agreed to split, yet Rose had paid the first two installments for. Thank god for after-pay.

Rey set about brushing her teeth, albeit hastily, and splashed her face with water before shoving her feet into her flats and grabbing her trusty canvas farmers market tote. It was cool in the mornings, no more than 60 degrees, so she grabbed a quilted thrifted jacket (four dollars? An absolute _steal_ ) and swung out the door and down the five flights of stairs from her walkup.

No, it wasn’t her best look, and Rey knew that. Most days she liked to dress up a little in Leia Organa-Solo’s presence, if only in an effort to not look like a complete slob next to the pristine figure the older woman cut. But Thursdays were a drag—that she couldn’t help. Her meager makeup routine could wait another day.

Headphones in, Rey made the brisk walk to the station and waited for the subway, trying to make a mental plan of the menu for the morning. Leia would be up first, requiring celery juice, which Rey was fairly positive she was still well stocked on ingredients-wise. She’d been on a Goop-inspired wellness kick for the past month, and Rey had indulged her every want, from celery juice to ashwagandha supplements. Han, ever the straightforward habitué, would want eggs, and Luke either plain oatmeal or something obscure—two days ago, he’d asked Rey for something Japanese inspired and she’d had to whip up miso soup and an omelet with scallions. It had impressed him, and she sort of had fun with it, anyway. Today was a Thursday, meaning that Poe, Leia’s assistant, would be there in the morning. Even though it wasn’t explicitly stated, it was _implicitly_ assumed that he liked some sort of baked good around 8 a.m. when he came to grab Leia for work. Rey had baked banana bread the night before in anticipation for him.

Rey felt the rush of wind on her face and stepped inside the open doors of the subway car. It was relatively empty, as it usually was at this hour, and Rey slid into a corner seat. She fished her phone out of the pocket of her embroidered jacket and began to type out a tentative schedule in her notes.

It had been about… Rey would guess about six months since she had started working in the Organa-Solo household. One month in came the addition of Luke, and then Leia’s assistant a few nights a week; not to mention the dog, Chewie, a newfoundland who needed “special food” at his mother’s urging. Rey loved all of them—they exhausted her, yes, but they made her laugh and she felt closer to them than she had any employer she’d had in the past. And it was all because of Maz.

Maz had scooped her up when she was in elementary school and had proven to be a tough but caring foster parent, and now adoptive guardian. She refused to let Rey call her “mom”, so she’d always just been “Maz,” even when Rey was a child.

Maz was, herself, a chef, and began pushing Rey towards culinary school the day Rey threw pasta at the wall and declared it “le denta.” Maz had laughed, despite little Rey being very proud of her butchered pronunciation of “al dente,” and had let her help in the kitchen whenever she’d wanted to—and especially when she didn’t want to. This was where Rey had learned the more unsavory parts of cooking, like being relegated to dish duty almost every night under the guise of “building character.”

Rey spent her teenage years working in Maz’s restaurant, an upscale bistro that coincidentally had been one of Leia Organa-Solo’s favorite spots for several years. After getting accepted and graduating from the CIA in Hyde Park with student debt and a few new roommates, Maz had planted the idea in Leia’s head that, as such a busy executive director who hosted donor parties and dinners every quarter for her charity, she would be in need of a private chef. And thus, last November, right before one of the largest Christmas parties Leia had ever put on, she’d hired Rey to help and had kept her ever since. Rey had never been more grateful for anything in her life than she was for Maz.

Rey frowned at her phone, skipping a slow song on her playlist in favor of a more upbeat one. Her un-caffeinated brain lacked the energy to handle Lucy Dacus that early in the morning. Thursdays usually proved to be a bit of a drag, and as she leaned into the next stop, Rey fought for the motivation to stay awake and focused on the electric beats of the Budgie song next on her playlist. Maybe, if she were lucky, something exciting would happen today and she'd be able to provide a crazy work story for Rose, which Rose herself was never in short supply of. Rey breathed out her nose and leaned her head against the wall of the subway car, closing her eyes. 

…

Leia walked into the kitchen a little after Rey had been there for half an hour. Her makeup was fully done, her hair braided, with a blazer _and_ heels on. Even in her older age, Leia was absolutely stunning, and her blemish free skin had guilted Rey into wearing SPF 30 at the least whenever she went outside. Rey gave her a quick smile and fed more celery into the juicer, trying her hardest not to be self-conscious of her disheveled appearance. God, had she even brushed her hair today?

“Good morning, Leia,” Rey said softly in an effort to match the quiet atmosphere of 7 am in the townhouse. Leia carefully poured herself a cup of coffee from the nicest pour over Rey had ever seen and smiled at Rey. There had been several adjustments that were made when Rey began working for Leia, and the shift from Folgers to an artisan South American fresh ground bean was one of the better ones.

“Morning, Rey,” she responded, her voice gentle, and looked over the mail Rey had brought up earlier that morning. She frowned at something lightly before turning her attention back to the juicer. She gave Rey an up and down before looking at her over her glasses. “I like today’s jumpsuit.” Rey grinned as she added the peeled knob of ginger. It was her preferred uniform these days—requiring little to no effort in matching tops and bottoms, a jumpsuit was perfect for when she got dressed with her eyes closed, still half asleep.

“You’re too kind,” she replied with a laugh. The machine whirred loudly, and she watched Leia flip through more mail. “What’s on the agenda today?” And after a small pause, she added, “Will Poe be over this morning?” even though she already knew the answer. Leia nodded, confirming her suspicions. Chopped green apple, next, then onto the banana bread.

“It’s rather hectic today, I will say.” Leia sighed and slid onto one of the barstools. “I’ve got that dinner tomorrow with Ackbar, and while I’m looking forward to it, there’s just so much I’ve got to do for Sunday… I feel a bit stretched thin.” Ah, yes. Leia was hosting a brunch on their _stunning_ gardened patio on Sunday that Rey was cooking for, hopefully with the help of her other roommate, Finn. While the gathering was going to be a small group of women, the net worth of the room was going to be so high it could fully fund multiple of Leia’s charities.

Rey turned off the juicer and poured Leia a glass, handing it to her, and poured the rest into a smaller cup for herself. It wasn’t _good_ , exactly, but Rey wasn’t one to waste food, and there was no way anyone else in the house would drink it. Han still rolled his eyes at Leia’s Goop kick and Luke was… well, Luke about it. Leia’s twin brother was no stranger to eating odd foods but was ever weary of the “capitalist wellness agenda,” as he called it. Rey tried her best not to acknowledge much of what Luke said politically, as it was rarely worth listening to, but… a vagina candle? Really?

“This is perfect—thank you dear,” smiled Leia, sipping at the green juice. “Are we finalized on the menu for Sunday, do you think?”

“Yes,” Rey responded, lugging the juicer to the sink and taking the cursed machine apart to wash it. “You wanted crostini and tea sandwiches, right?”

“And don’t forget, Amilyn is gluten free now.”

“Of course, I’m already on it.” Rich people.

Leia said her goodbyes, juice in hand, and glided upstairs, leaving her white blazer hanging over the barstool. Rey slotted out a time frame for the morning while she washed the juicer, planning out when she and Rose could run to the farmer’s market—Han’s breakfast in half an hour, followed by Luke, and hopefully she’ll have meal prepped them a modest lunch by the time Rose was done with her morning shift with Maz. That would be around… 11? 11:30? She figured she could post something to her Instagram stories if the weather was nice enough… tomatoes were just coming into season, and the red would be a welcome addition to her feed. Rey was deep in her thoughts of aesthetics when Leia made her way back down the stairs and grabbed the banana bread Rey had left out for Poe.

“I’ve got to run, so I’ll just bring this for him,” she said, and Rey smiled knowingly. Poe would not see the banana bread this morning. Leia loved when she baked it with pecans. The older woman was just around the corner when she stopped and poked her head back into the kitchen. “Oh, and Rey,” Leia said, smiling. “I hope it won’t be too much trouble, but tonight… Ben is coming for dinner, and I believe he’ll be staying in the spare bedroom for the foreseeable future.” Rey’s brow furrowed as she turned to her.

“Ben?” Rey asked in confusion.

“My son, dear,” Leia replied, and walked out the door. “So, dinner for four tonight!” Rey frowned as she heard the door shut softly behind Leia. They had a _son_?

* * *

Ben was in a Prius. It was small, cramped, and unbearably Prius-like, and he hated it. He thought he’d worked hard enough the past decade to ensure that he’d never find himself in this sort of situation again, but there he was. Sitting. In a Prius. It was clean, he supposed, but no matter the condition of the car, he’d always have a deep, arduous loathing for them. As if it could read his thoughts, the car jerked as they hit a rougher part of the street, jostling Ben and his too-large frame in the too-small backseat. _Cursed_ _vehicle_ , he thought, clicking his phone on to check the time that hadn’t changed the past three times he’d looked.

His uber driver was listening to 70’s rock music, which Ben wouldn’t have minded had it not reminded him overwhelmingly of his father and the fact that he was going to have to put up with both him _and_ his uncle Luke for the next few days. _Weeks_ , he reminded himself, his ever-present frown pulling even deeper on his face. He’d be staying at his parents’ home for _weeks_ , like some twenty-year-old free rider. He’d have been perfectly content spending his forced vacation alone in his apartment in Denver, but his therapist correctly predicted that that might not be the best idea for his mental health, and… well, it had been awhile since he’d seen his mom.

The Eagles came on, and the pounding behind Ben’s eyes became more apparent. It was about to form into a mild migraine, something he was achingly familiar with, but he was fresh out of any form of over the counter painkillers, and an entire day of flying had left him too drained to push through it.

“Um, excuse me,” he said, coughing into his hand. When his Uber driver didn’t respond, he coughed again and repeated himself. “Could you turn the music down, just a little?”

“Turn it up?” the driver asked, and Ben shook his head, correcting him, but his driver didn’t seem hear him. _Life in the Fast Lane_ blasted through the speakers, its frequency somehow more abrasive than before. Ben closed his eyes, breathing slowly in through his nose. If google maps was right (and it rarely was), he’d be to his parent’s new house and free from this classic rock induced hell in ten minutes. He could take the music until then and be free one less argument for the day. God knew he didn’t need any more of those, especially if the remainder of the evening with his parents went the way he thought it would.

…

When the insipid Prius pulled up to the glaringly white house his parents inhabited, it had been seventeen minutes, not ten. He tried not to be annoyed, at least outwardly, and thanked the driver with a barely concealed false gratitude. From the looks of it, his driver either didn’t notice, or didn’t care. Ben heaved his suitcase from the trunk of the… _tasteless_ vehicle and turned to look at the townhome in front of him, an older, yet renovated, building packed tightly between its neighbors.

His parents had really moved up, real estate wise, since he’d left the city. Growing up they’d lived in a modest apartment on the other side of town, mostly to appease Han’s aversion to anything remotely luxurious. Ben wondered vaguely what the rent was here, and knocked, hoping _someone_ in the giant townhome he was about to walk into would hear him. He’d forgotten to text his mom that he’d arrived, or even that he’d gotten off the plane. He frowned, annoyance rolling through him, knowing he’d get chewed out for that later. Ben lugged his suitcase up the few steps to the door, and with a start he realized he hadn’t been to visit his family in more than two years. Something like guilt gnawed at his stomach. He hadn’t even been to their housewarming party, which he was sure Leia had extravagantly hosted, and Chewie—

The door opened, and it was Leia that answered, not Han or Luke. _Thank God._

“Benjamin!” Leia smiled warmly, holding out her arms to her son, despite the frown Ben was sure was still on his face. There was no trace of frustration on her features over his utter lack of communication skills. Ben couldn’t help the small grin that found its way to his mouth upon seeing his mom again, and he pulled her into a tight hug. She was over a foot shorter than him, her face barely coming to his chest, but it still felt like she was the one holding him. He shut his eyes, smiling.

It had been quite a while since he’d been hugged like this.

Leia pulled away to look at him, one of her hands still on his arm as she gave him a once-over. She frowned, taking in his rumpled airport outfit and general bedraggled appearance. “You look a little worse for wear, honey.” _Typical Leia._ Ben opened his mouth to defend himself, but she smirked, and Ben realized she was joking. He had to remember that people did that sometimes.

“Well, we can’t all be as well dressed as you, mom,” he tried, gesturing to her white blazer, and she grinned at him. They looked truly the opposite of each other—she in her light-colored suit and immaculate braids, and he in dark, stale airport clothes with unwashed hair, towering over her. “I missed you.” She smiled warmly at him, and he thought, just for a second, that maybe this god forsaken visit might be worth dealing with Han and Luke for a few weeks, just to spend time with her.

“We missed you too, Ben.” Her voice was both scolding and kind at the same time, in true Leia fashion. He sighed. If only it were only her and Chewie—he could manage that.

Leia walked him through the house and up a staircase, insisting on showing him the room he’d be staying in—one of four rooms, apparently, even though Ben was sure his mother didn’t need any more than two. The thirteen-foot ceilings and the expensive finishes in the bathroom made him wonder once again how much they paid for this, and how close Leia and Han had gotten to a divorce over this particular purchase.

His bedroom was inhabited by a large bed with an understated headboard, along with what could only be described as a wardrobe that stood menacingly in the corner. A matching desk sat on the opposing side of the room, complete with a small desk chair that Ben could already tell was purely for aesthetic. The desk drew his attention, though. The expansive walnut looked almost familiar, but he couldn’t place from where. Perhaps he could write, then. If he got bored enough. And if he found a normal sized chair.

The bedroom looked much like the rest of the house—white linens, white curtains on the window, a plant in the corner that he’d probably be tasked with keeping alive. It was also absurdly, oppressively hot.

“I hope this will do,” Leia said, fanning herself and reaching over to open a window. Ben had begun to feel the rigidity of his jacket in the heat and shifted, trying to ease the unbreathable fabric over his shoulders. It was significantly warmer than in the rest of the air-conditioned house, which Han liked to keep as cold as Leia would allow. Ben shivered at the memory of mornings in his childhood apartment and bare feet on cold, wooden floors. “I wonder what’s up with this heat,” she muttered, standing close to the window to beckon in the cool air from outside. Ben frowned as the cacophony of the city floated in with her and rolled his suitcase up to the bed. “I’ll have to ask Han about it in the morning. You know how he is about needing to do everything himself.” She smiled at him as he fiddled with his blazer again, his eyes not meeting hers. Ben was _not_ going to be the first to ask about Han.

Leia raised an eyebrow, knowing him too well. She had raised him and his bad communication skills, after all. “He and Luke are on a walk with Chewie right now, in case you were wondering—” her statement was poignant, “—but they’ll be back for dinner.”

“I’m so sad I missed them,” Ben replied, his voice cynical. He frowned at their absence, wondering why they had left the house so soon before his arrival, until he belatedly realized he had failed to tell anyone in the house what time his supposed arrival even _was_. Leia rolled her eyes at him and nodded for him to follow her downstairs.

“You’re looking a bit thin, dear,” she said as they walked downstairs. Ben moved to take his blazer off, looking around for a coat rack or a peg in the wall and praying he didn’t have pit stains. His eyes landed on a set of hooks nestled into the wall next to him, with some ridiculously patterned green and yellow _thing_ hanging on it. Ben frowned. It looked like it had been found at the bottom of the dumpster. “Are you still on that ridiculous diet of yours?”

Ben murmured something in response before registering her question. She looked at him expectantly and he turned his attention away from the absurd excuse for a coat on his mother’s coat rack. Surely _she_ wouldn’t wear such a thing.

“Mom, you know I am.” He leaned against the wall, his back to the kitchen, and tried to have as little contact with the enigma of the flamboyant fabric as possible. “I’ll get my own food while I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about feeding me.” Was she hosting guests he didn’t know about? Could it be something new Luke was trying?

“Oh, don’t worry about that, honey, we have Rey now.” Maybe it was—wait, _what?_

“I’m sorry, you have a what?”

“I can’t believe I haven’t told you yet!” Leia grinned at him and crossed her arms, looking smug. “We hired a personal chef for the Christmas party last year and I just kept her on! It’s so convenient, we never have to worry about food anymore, and with the exception of Luke we’re all so busy.” Leia sighed, smiling softly at his amidst his intense confusion. “She’s been holding the house together recently…” Wait, _her?_ “It’s just so nice to sit down for dinner with my family without having to worry about—"

“Mom, why the hell would you hire a private chef?” Ben frowned at her, and yes, maybe it was a bit more aggressive than he meant, but really, it was absurd. “It’s a complete waste of money! You guys must have dropped an ungodly amount of money on this house alone; why can’t you just stick to the caterers for your charity lunches and whatever else you do.” He hated himself as her face fell, knowing he was just upsetting her. Again. But he couldn’t stop, not when she was being so god damn irresponsible. They’d never been responsible with money, and _yeah,_ they had a lot, but they had to start saving soon, or else—

She huffed, about to cut him off, and he jumped to continue his rant. “Whoever she is, she’s probably ripping you guys off and taking advantage of you! I’m sure she knows how loose you are with money—”

“Benjamin, you did _not_ just call your mother _loose_!”

“—and she’s just feeding you sandwiches and taking your checks!” Ben sighed, running his hands through his hair. He was getting needlessly angry again, but per usual, he couldn’t help it. Leia was almost openly glaring at him, and he wondered how he possibly could have fucked this up in the ten minutes he’d been at home. It was just what he did, he supposed. And _that_ was why he refrained from coming home often, if at all.

“Rey is a wonderful girl,” Leia began, her words clipped and unyielding. “And I won’t hear a bad word out of your mouth about her while you’re here.” Ben felt himself transported back into high school, when Leia would lecture him about his grades and Han would stand next to her, silent, but nodding in agreement. “She’s done nothing but help us since we hired her. And at least she’s _been_ here, Ben.” Leia rolled her eyes and moved into the kitchen, leaving Ben to press his fingers against the bridge of his nose, trying to ease some of his tension. Fuck his therapist, this was a terrible idea. And his migraine was back.

“Rey, dear,” said Leia’s voice from the kitchen, and to Ben’s immense displeasure, her voice was cloying, almost haughty. Ben felt his heart drop in his chest. He was sure she’d just heard him not only fight with his mother like a child, but also slander her position in their household. And Leia had let him go on like that, knowing she was in the next room. Great. “What’s on for tonight?”

“I’m thinking a Moroccan chicken dish,” came a lilting voice from the kitchen that had Ben’s eyes snapping open immediately. She sounded… _young._ Ben rounded the corner and saw a girl, probably in her twenties if he were judging by her rather _vibrant_ clothing, and with one look at her the mystery of the dumpster jacket seemed to solve itself. The girl, _Rey_ , was stirring up some sort of marinade in front of her, her gaze trained on Leia. “I was at the farmers market today and the tomatoes are finally out again, so I thought a confit would be fun.” Her eyes turned to Ben, and he almost stopped breathing. She forced a tight smile on her face, brushing away a fly away from her bun with her wrist. No doubt she’d heard everything he’d said, and the memories of his choice words made his stomach churn. Mother fucker.

Rey opened her mouth to quip a rather mocking, “Hey, I’m Rey,” and he grimaced.

God dammit. Why did she have to be _pretty_?

* * *

Recipe of the Week:

_Rey’s famous popcorn!_

I know you guys have been asking for this for a while now, and I thought I’d put it in in post-form so you all have access to it. I hope y’all enjoy this as much as I do!!

Ingredients:

4 tablespoons of grapeseed oil (separated)

½ cup organic popcorn kernels

Fresh rosemary and thyme (chopped)

2 tablespoons nutritional yeast

1 tsp himilayan sea salt

1 tbsp black pepper

Step 1.) Coat the bottom of a pan (one with a lid!) with oil, about 2 tablespoons, and turn the heat to high.

Step 2.) Once the oil begins to sizzle, add the popcorn kernels! Once they’re done popping, move the pan around a little bit so that the popcorn doesn’t get stuck in one spot.

Step 3.) Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and set the popcorn in an even layer.

Step 4.) Now, take the other 2 tablespoons of oil in a pan over low heat, and add in the chopped rosemary and thyme. Remember, we’re infusing the oil with the flavor, not cooking the herbs. Add a little bit of salt—season every step!

Step 5.) Drizzle your infused oil mixture over the popcorn!

Step 6.) Combine the nutritional yeast, pepper, and salt together and sprinkle over top of the popcorn. Mix the popcorn well and share with a friend (or eat it all yourself)!

Enjoy! XOXO, _reyofsunshine_


	2. Chapter 2

Rey didn’t like Ben. And no, she thought as she furiously zested a lemon, it was not only because he talked shit about her to her _boss_ right in front of her. She didn’t like his expensive suitcase or his glower or his pretentious demeanor—who wears a blazer on a plane? The flight must have been four hours, at least. Not that she’d checked. And then he’d just stared at her, his eyes narrowed, after she introduced herself, and it was Leia who ended up telling her his name was Ben.

They looked nothing alike, really. Leia was small, but animated and beautiful—she was confident and decidedly _not_ broody. _Ben_ on the other hand was almost a giant, even compared to Han, she assumed, although she had yet to see the two men next to each other. Ben always looked like he was trying to be smaller, which was almost impossible; he took up an entire doorway.

Rey looked at the growing plate of ingredients before her, frowning. She couldn’t remember ever being so agitated towards another human being before, even in culinary school. Her instructors were pompous and annoying, but somehow their egotism didn’t surpass this one man’s utter _arrogance_ and rudeness in front of his own mother. _Her_ employer. Who was _not_ loose with money—for Christ’s sake, she funded charities and passion projects and bled herself dry, why could she not enjoy something nice for once? _And_ he hadn’t been home in two years? By God, if Rey so much as missed a _holiday_ with Maz, she’d—

Rey yelped, pulling her hand back from the microplane. She’d gotten a little overzealous with the lemon zest and scraped off the skin from her hand. Figures. Mentally defending Leia Organa-Solo’s honor got her a bloody finger.

Rey hastily wrapped a band aid around her shredded digit and moved _away_ from the zester and towards a knife. Perhaps not a safer bet in the state of aggravation she was in, but there were onions needed to be quartered. She looked to the side, where her completed produce sat in prepared bowls—at least she’d already done the ginger.

Voices started coming from the dining area and Rey redelegated her attention to the onion in front of her. She needed to isolate her thoughts of annoyance— _unwarranted_ annoyance, really—and focus on cooking. What had she told Leia? Moroccan chicken? The thin sliced slabs of breast meat were already marinating in the refrigerator, which just left the sauce, the tomatoes, and the peaches. Rey frowned at the onion in front of her, before grabbing her phone and shuffling her playlist for some sort of distraction and began chopping.

…

To Rey’s great misfortune, when she saw Ben for the second time that day, it was while ABBA’s _Dancing Queen_ was playing, and she was, of course, _dancing_ while grilling peaches as she surveyed the tomato confit and chicken simmer in the pan next to her. Ben coughed behind her and she whipped around, nearly knocking the grill pan off the stove. He had changed into something more casual for dinner and was staring at the floor, almost grimacing. Rey felt the beginnings of an embarrassed flush on her face and she reached over to turn down the music. Had anyone else walked in, they probably would have started singing with her—but no, it had to be their asshole _son_ —

Rey took a deep breath and turned to him with a smile. It was no use shit talking the son of her employer in her mind, _especially_ not an employer that had been nothing but wonderful to her for the past six months. Her yoga instructor would tell her to ease her mind, and take a few deep breaths in, before letting the negative thoughts float away…

“Leia lets you use your phone during work hours?” Well, fuck Kaydel’s advice.

Rey frowned at Ben, who was looking at her firmly. Rey quickly turned back to the peaches and flipped them, not wanting Ben to see her transparent face of utter annoyance.

“Well, yeah,” she said, talking over her shoulder. “Leia doesn’t really run a militaristic regime here.” Rey heard him hum in acknowledgment behind her, and for some reason it pissed her off. Kay’s words were slipping further and further from her mind.

She was about to snap at him and ask if he needed something, but he spoke first. “Is there… is there anything I could do to help?” What the _fuck_?

This was her _job_ , thank you very much, a job which he _obviously_ thought was unnecessary and indulgent on his mother’s part, a job which _he_ probably thought he could do better than her. Just because she didn’t go to some upscale law school or whatever the hell he did for a living didn’t mean she didn’t know how to do her job much better than he ever could. He looked like he didn’t even know how to make the most basic Bolognese sauce, and he marched in there asking if he could do her job for her? The _absolute_ goddamn _nerve—_

“No, thank you,” she said instead, and her voice came out clipped and a little more agitated than she meant it to be. She took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m all set. It’ll be ready in five or six minutes.” She clenched her jaw, still prodding at the peaches even though she knew they wouldn’t get the grill marks she wanted if she kept messing with them. Rey heard him murmur something behind her before shuffling out of the kitchen. She sighed and closed her eyes, ABBA still playing lightly in the background in a way that seemed out of place now.

Ben didn’t deserve that. He’d probably had a long flight, and maybe something had happened on the way and he was in a bad mood. From how little his parents and uncle talked about him, they’d probably fought or had some disagreement Rey wasn’t privy to hearing from the kitchen. Kay’s disapproving face hovered in her mind, and Rey sighed again. She’d just apologize, maybe after dinner—he couldn’t still be mad at her after eating her food. Everyone _always_ liked her food, even the simple dishes.

She transferred the peaches into the simmering pan on the next burner, before sprinkling in some feta and messing with the nut-sauce mixture next to her. She frowned. Hopefully he wasn’t allergic to nuts or something.

The pot still simmering, she walked into the dining room to set the table, hearing voices in the living room. Or maybe the foyer? She couldn’t tell—this apartment was absurdly large. She set four places instead of five, as Poe would once again not be joining them that evening, and set out the sautéed asparagus, the tomato confit and chicken, and the balsamic, basil and pistachio sauce in color coordinated pans and matching serving utensils. All in all, Rey was very proud of herself. She pulled out her phone to take a quick Instagram story for her modest five thousand followers, promising to attach the recipe in an official post the next morning.

Then, Ben walked in on her with her phone—again. He took one look at her, struggling to put her phone back in the pocket of her jumpsuit, before turning to the table to look at her spread. _At least_ this _he should be impressed by_ , Rey thought, but instead, Ben’s face drew into a frown.

“Is that chicken?” he said, looking to Rey with what she could only describe as a _sneer_.

“Um… yes?” she said, hating her small voice that came out like a question.

“I can’t eat that.” She furrowed her brows at him as he looked back at her blankly. Rey stuttered for a moment before asking a slightly exasperated, “Why?”, to which Ben rolled his eyes at. Rey felt herself getting angry again at his stupid aloofness, all her apparent conviction about her meal flying out the window.

“I don’t eat meat.” He shrugged. As if she should _know_ without him _telling her._ “Or cheese, actually.”

Rey bristled. Of course he was a fucking _vegan._

* * *

In retrospect, Ben had been kind of an asshole. Okay, he’d been a _giant_ asshole about the whole dinner thing, and his choice to ignore the asparagus—the only thing he could eat on the table—as a whole in favor of a protein shake was not his finest moment. Rey’s eyes had fallen to the ground, somehow looking incredibly furious and also defeated at the same time. Ben rubbed a hand over his face, his stupid protein shake half-finished on his desk. It stared him down, the cup sweating little beads in the heat, as if to say, _was I worth it? Was it worth hurting the pretty girl’s feelings for me?_ Ben sighed heavily. No, it decidedly was not.

Ben fanned himself as he leaned back at his desk, but all it did was switch out static hot air for more hot air. He felt the brush of it against the sweat at his temples and frowned. It hadn’t been entirely his fault, that he’d been snappish towards Rey. She’d been more than a little short with him, which he’d probably deserved after telling his mother _in front of her_ that her job was impractical, and after suggesting that his mother _also_ ban her from her phone while at work. What the fuck was that?

The old chair beneath him creaked softly as he leaned back, running his hand through his hair. Why was this room so ungodly warm? He ought to crack the window, but then he’d have to hear the sounds of this insufferable city on top of his already-loud thoughts. He needed to apologize to Rey, he knew. A thirty-year-old man, pouting because his mom didn’t prepare a special meal for him. Ben felt his face flush at the thought. God, what did she _think_ of him? He didn’t even want to speak to her again, much less practically live with her for the next few weeks. He doubted she didn’t fancy talking to him any time soon either, so Ben elected to stay in his oven-like room for a bit longer. That way he could avoid Rey, maybe until she left for the night, and his father and uncle.

Ben couldn’t go so far as to say that they weren’t welcoming, but, like with Leia, they’d settled into an argument fairly quickly. Han didn’t like that Ben was gone all the time, as if he were in a place to say such a thing. There had been weeks at a time where Han would be gone and leave him with Leia when Ben was younger, out on trips that almost resulted in his parent’s divorce when Ben was in seventh grade. He’d never really forgiven his dad for putting his mother through that.

Then Luke had jumped to Han’s defense with all this talk about righting past mistakes, and that Ben had to be the “bigger man” in these kinds of situations, and when was Ben going to finally quit that job and become a full-time writer, like he himself was? As if “being a writer” meant living in his sister’s house, eating her food, and pumping out mystery novels every five years. Ben couldn’t imagine living in this house for longer than a few weeks even if someone paid him to do it.

No, Ben thought, he was doing just fine. He was an editor in chief at a publishing company, second only to the publisher, Howard Snoke, and, yes, it often demanded seventy to eighty hour work weeks, frequent stress induced migraines, and he hated most of his coworkers, but he was certainly earning more money than Luke, and not living off the seemingly endless Skywalker trust fund. He was most certainly _just_ _fine_ , even though he was on mandatory leave for the coming weeks so he could, in Snoke’s words, “refocus on what’s important.” And of course, his forced leave wasn’t overlooked by his father and uncle. Ben assumed he had another three or four days of that being mentioned in every conversation with either man until they finally let it go. Him not being at work was the last thing Ben wanted to think about right now.

As he banished the thought from his mind, along with the impending anxiety of doing _nothing_ for the next few weeks, a woman’s face floated into his mind, and he frowned in annoyance. Rey, tucking loose piece of brown hair behind her ear, and meeting his eye seconds after he called her job useless. Right. He had an apology to make.

He groaned and sat up (checking for pit stains, _again_ ) before heading down the stairs. It had been nearly two hours since dinner, and he doubted Rey had any reason to be there past nine pm. So, he’d pour himself a drink from ine of Han’s nicer whiskeys, assuming he still kept them in the cabinet above the refrigerator like at the old apartment, and he and Rey would hopefully both forget about their unfortunate experiences with each other and all would work itself out.

Of course, Ben knew that this was just wishful thinking on his part.

…

Ben held himself to a tall six foot three, taller than Han, yet somehow the whiskey sat just out of his reach. He took a deep breath in and stood on his toes, reaching blindly for some handle on the bottle, when he finally grabbed it. He let out a triumphant exclamation, turning around for a glass, and saw a stunned Rey instead. They stared at each other for a moment before Rey let the dish towel she was holding fall to her side, pasting a small smile on her face.

“I, um…” Ben began, and she moved towards a dish mat on the counter, laden with dripping glasses from dinner. The dinner he had been too much of an asshole to participate in. “I was just… looking for the whiskey.”

“I can see that,” she said, turning to look at him. “A bit high for you?” Ben blanched, unable to respond, and she laughed. “I suppose it’s fair—I mean you saw me dancing to ABBA a few hours ago. It’s payback that I get to watch you struggle for booze on your tiptoes.” Ben felt his ears turn red and turned away from her, looking for the glass cabinet.

“I guess so,” he said, trying to laugh with her, but it just sounded like a strangled snort. Where did this woman keep her glasses?

“What’s got you needing a whiskey at nine on a Thursday?” she quipped, and Ben opened yet another wrong cabinet.

“Isn’t being here enough?” he responded, looking through an array of mugs, which he was _not_ close to giving up and using. Not at all.

  
“If you say so,” she said, and he felt her turn to him. “Whiskey glasses are in the china cabinet in the dining room. Leia likes to show them off.” A pause. “I guess they were her dads.” Ben felt his face pull into a frown at the thought of his grandfather, but followed Rey’s instructions into the dining room and, sure enough, there they were, lined up behind   
Leia’s myriad wine glasses. He grabbed one, and on second thought, grabbed another and walked back into the kitchen.

Rey was still drying dishes, her back to him, and Ben took her in for a moment. An oversized sweater, probably to protect against the aggressive air conditioning in the house, was draped over her shoulders, and for some reason, the word _cute_ flashed in Ben’s mind at the thought. He looked away, scowling at the unbidden image, but unfortunately looking away meant looking _down_ and looking _down_ meant…

It meant he had a perfect view of her ass, which he had regrettably not been privy to until that point. Rey was wearing some denim one piece, and it was tight in places that, as a respectable adult, he should not be looking.

“Do you, um—” he cleared his throat, which had suddenly become _un_ -clear, and ripped his gaze away from her. “Do you want a glass?”

“I probably shouldn’t drink while I’m working,” she replied, holding a large skillet-style pan. _Of_ _course_. Ben nodded, his face falling as he felt his fingers curl at his side. It had been foolish of him to ask, especially after making that idiotic remark about her using her phone.

“No, you’re right, I—”

“Good thing I’m off work in a minute.” Her smile as she turned to him, normally forced, seemed freer, like she was… _teasing_ him. Ben did his very best not to flush under her gaze. How was she suddenly being kind to him after he had been such an asshole for the entire evening?

Ben unscrewed the whiskey, doing his best to measure something equivalent to a shot into each of the glasses as Rey finished the dishes. He shifted his weight, feeling awkward that someone else was washing the dishes he probably ought to be doing. It was the least that he owed his parents after causing a minor scene that evening. He looked up and Rey was drying her hands on her pants, and he averted his gaze before his mind polluted the image of her bottoms for the _second_ time that evening.

He leaned against the kitchen island, his back to the stairs as he watched Rey grab her glass. She studied the whiskey for a moment, swishing it, before raising it up in a mock cheer toward him with a small smile. Her lips were pink, and he watched as she bit them in anticipation before warily taking a sip of the alcohol. Her nose immediately scrunched up and her facial expression screamed _disgust_ as she swallowed it. He watched her eyes squeeze close and her body shudder, her hand coming up to wipe her lips. Rey made a sound of revulsion at the taste and looked to him, one eyebrow raised, as if asking _how do you drink this shit?_

He realized he hadn’t even grabbed his glass.

He quickly took it and raised it to his lips, downing half of it in a smooth, practiced sip. He’d never admit it, but he felt a small sense of pride as Rey’s eyebrows lifted, as if she were impressed. She gestured with the glass towards him.

“You drink this stuff often?” He shrugged in response, and felt his lips begin to turn up into a small smile. “Because it’s honestly disgusting.” He frowned. “I thought the expensive stuff was supposed to be good?” He watched her gaze imperiously at him for a moment before shrugging and taking another pained sip.

Then, it was silent for a few moments, and awkward enough that Ben, who rarely, if ever, felt the need to break tense silences, opened his mouth to say something. It just so happened that Rey opened her mouth at the same time, resulting in a conjunction of, “So, I should—” and “I’ve been meaning—” from both parties, which stunned them into another painful silence.

This apology thing was already going great, it seemed.

  
“Do you do this with all the staff?” Rey asked, saving them from Ben’s complete inability to come up with something to say.

“What, um… What?” Ben floundered for a response. _There was other staff?_

“Offer them drinks after hours,” she said with a laugh, and leaned against the kitchen counter with her legs crossed. It was, it pained Ben to say, endlessly endearing. “Or am I just special?” Ben was coherent enough not to agree with her, that yes, she was special, and that part of his reason for coming downstairs in the first place was to see her. Luckily he was saved from a response when Chewie came bursting in, running straight for Rey.

“Hi, baby!” she said, her voice immediately half an octave higher as she reached down to pet the dog, her drink forgotten on the counter. Ben watched the exchange, shifting awkwardly at how well she seemed to know his dog and how comfortable she was with the giant animal. Chewie gave her face a giant lick and she snorted, squeezing her eyes closed and laughing, and wiped the sleeve of her sweater at the drool Chewie had left.

Ben swallowed thickly.

“I’m sorry,” he said abruptly, causing her smile to fall as she looked up at him from where she was crouched on the floor. He rushed to continue. “I was in a bad mood when I got here, and I made some… _poor_ word choices about you working for my family.” She looked down at Chewie again and made to stand. “So I’m just… I’m sorry, I guess. No, I _know_ , I’m sor—yes, I’m sorry.” He let out a breath while she looked at him amusedly.

“Thanks,” she said, and her voice was soft. She eyed her drink on the counter but didn’t pick it up. “You were kind of an asshole.” Ben frowned. “I’m sorry I didn’t make your weird vegan food, I guess.” She nodded at him, as if signaling the end of her apology, and Ben’s frown deepened. She was right—he had been an asshole, but she’d also been a little rude, and some sort of apology would have been _nice_ , at least— “Your parents have been, uh, really great,” she continued, tracing the edge of her glass with her finger. “I really didn’t have very much experience and they sort of took a leap of faith with me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking a small sip of his drink. “My mom is awesome.”

“Han is great, too, of course,” she said hurriedly, and his face soured. “And Luke is really interesting—I see him most, probably because he hangs around the house all the time.” Ben hums in response, frowning. Of course she’d like Luke. For whatever reason it made his skin heat in annoyance. “Anyways, what I’m trying to say is like—I’m really appreciative towards your family, they’ve done me a lot of good. I mean, I had just gotten out of school and they took me on, and I’ve been working here for six or so months and it’s just been great. It’s one of my favorite jobs I’ve ever had.”

Ben paused, his lips parting. She’d only just graduated? So she was…

“How old are you?” She looked mildly taken aback for a moment before she schooled her features.

“I’m 22,” she replied, and Ben felt his heart sink. So, here he was, a 30-year-old man, drinking a glass of whiskey with a 22 year old? He thought she’d be _at least_ 26, if she had a full time job working for his mother. She didn’t like lack of experience, and took anyone she hired seriously—Hell, Poe had had to work for 3 years at another job before she even considered him as her assistant.

“Well, aren’t you a little young to be working for my family?” He’d meant it more as a compliment, but as soon as the words were out of his mouth, the meaning of “you must be very talented” was eclipsed by “you obviously don’t know what you’re doing”. He sighed as he watched Rey’s face harden.

  
“It’s so odd, how Han, Leia, and Luke can be _so_ kind to me, why you’re anything but. Goodnight.” She pushed the glass back on the counter, and, giving Chewie one last pat on the head, grabbed her jacket and walked out the door. He was certain that, were it not for the automatic door softening machinations, it would have slammed shut loud enough to rattle his glass.

Ben rubbed a hand over his face, already feeling a stinging of guilt in his chest. Why was he _such_ an _asshole_? He downed the rest of his drink, trying not to cringe at the bitterness that mirrored his failure not ten minutes ago. Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow, he’d be nicer, and not make this stay any worse than it already had to be. She was only 22 and didn’t deserve his bullshit. Maybe he should have gone anywhere else—a solo vacation might have done him well, maybe somewhere without cell service—

A hand dropped on his shoulder, and Ben whipped around to see Luke standing behind him, an eyebrow raised incredulously at him.

“Already hitting on the staff, eh, kid?” he said, laughing as he moved into the kitchen. Ben let out a sigh. “Good to have you back.”


End file.
